The Truce
by CorellianBlue
Summary: Subtle and not very good or developed "first time" fic - with fade to black. Published 2002, but written late 1990s-when I was only a toddler-a missing moment from The Truce at Bakura which I think vaguely implies that H & L consummate their relationship on Bakura. Obviously the author didn't read "Forty Days to Bespin" by Leela Starsky! Enjoy Leela's art instead.


**THE TRUCE**

 **by CorellianBlue**

(first published mid-late 1990s, updated September 2015)

[Missing moment from _The Truce at Bakura_ , by Kathy Tyers]

The moment she entered the apartment, Leia sensed the tension in the air. The door closed behind her as she draped the shawl from her shoulders and placed it on a nearby chair. _No_ , she corrected herself, _not quite tension. More like frustration._

Han stood at the opposite window, one palm flat against the glassine, forehead resting on the back of his hand, eyes fixed out at the cityscape below, at the pane itself, anywhere but at Leia. His head had barely turned at the sound of her entrance, and now as she walked around the lounge pit towards him, he tried to ignore her presence.

Leia's conversation with Luke had left her irritated and flustered, taking the edge off the excited anticipation she had felt about spending the night alone with Han. And now, seeing her would-be lover sulking like a spoilt child, part of her considered leaving him there while she retired to her room. Alone.

But she owed both Han and herself more than that. It had been so hard finding time to be alone with Han, and now that she knew they could spend the night together without interruption she wasn't going to let his sullenness, or her arrogance, ruin it for both of them.

As Leia approached Han, he shifted his weight, ensuring his back was fully turned towards her. Leia smiled to herself and quietly folded her arms around him. As she lay her cheek against his back and placed her hands flat against his chest, Leia felt his heart beat quicken, his body momentarily warm to her touch, before he tensed again, desperately trying to ignore both Leia and his emotions.

"He needed me," Leia softly explained. "He's my brother."

With a frustrated sigh, Han suddenly pulled away from her embrace. Leia checked her rebuke as she curiously watched him seat himself on a nearby sideboard, his legs dangling over the edge. He was just far enough away that she had to move to follow him, if she wanted to that was.

The moonlight lit his face in profile as he glanced out the window, then turned his face to her for the first time. Leia was immediately struck by the look of hurt in his eyes.

"What about me, Leia?" Han asked, his voice deep and soft. "I need you too."

Leia approached him now without hesitation or recrimination. She gently brushed her fingers against his cheek.

"Oh, Han. I'm sorry." She took his hand in hers, raised it to her lips and kissed his palm. "Seems like we never have much time together. But tonight is different."

He smiled at her grimly, his hand cradling her cheek as she kissed his fingers, not fully convinced. He'd tried to spend time alone with Leia, both in the past and more recently, but something, or someone, usually pulled her away from him. He doubted tonight would be different.

"Maybe…maybe this—us—is a bad idea," he mumbled.

"I can't believe Han Solo is giving up."

She flashed him a coy smile, but realised that maybe he was. She stared into his eyes earnestly. She loved this man, this _nerfherder_ , had never felt this way about another. Now she longed for him to hold her with the passion he had for her. Longed to feel the warmth and strength of his body against hers. Longed to display the love they felt for each other.

Her pulse quickened as she edged closer to him, so that she was leaning up against the sideboard, his legs on either side of her. She would try appealing to his pride.

"Or maybe you're just playing hard to get."

Leia placed her hand on Han's thigh and watched as his grimace gradually turned to that familiar lopsided Solo smile.

"Maybe," he whispered, his eyes brightening, his voice sounding promising, "maybe."

His thigh muscles tightened as she caressed his leg and continued to stare deep into his eyes, while her other hand reached up to gently stroke his neck and chest.

"Why, Princess, are you trying to seduce me?"

Leia quickly pushed aside the image of what her adoptive father, Bail Organa, would think of her, a princess of the Royal House of Alderaan, seducing a scruffy, wise-cracking Corellian pirate.

"Maybe," she replied sensually, "maybe."

Han slowly leaned down towards Leia, his breath warm against her skin. Leia felt herself engulfed in the depths of his hazel eyes.

Then, with his lips inches from hers, he solemnly whispered, "I love you, Leia. More than anything else."

Her tender kiss answered his betrothal. The sweet taste of his mouth stirred her deeper into his arms. She felt his passion heighten as his hands eagerly moved across her body. After a few minutes they parted, gasping for breath, their eyes glistening with anticipation. Han's eyebrows raised expectantly; Leia noticed the slightest tilt of his chin towards the bedrooms. She smiled, took his hand and led him across the apartment. Han obediently followed her into her room.

Leia was floating—luxuriating—in that space between sleep and consciousness. Part of her, the ambassadorial part, tried to push her towards wakefulness; she had many things to do this morning, many things vital to the survival of the New Republic, and could not really afford to laze in bed.

But another part of her, the young girl she'd left behind on Alderaan, allowed her body to rest, allowed her mind to weave and wander back to times and places that seemed a lifetime away. She recalled the warm, scented breeze of an Alderaanian summer night, the way her white senatorial robes had fluttered against her legs as she stood on a balcony of the Royal Palace, the lights of the city below sparkling up at her. Behind her, inside the comfortably furnished reception room, she could hear the soft chuckle of her father, Bail Organa, as he gently sparred with some bureaucrat over some minor point of State.

Leia felt warm and safe. At peace for the first time in years.

As she gazed out into the enormous, black Alderaanian sky, Leia became aware of another's presence. Her pulse quickened as she realized she must have been subconsciously using the Force and had somehow touched the mind of someone close by. She knew immediately it wasn't Luke; Luke always came in strong and clear and comforting, shining with his Force ability. This presence was also bright, however not with the Force but with its own verve for life. Although it felt foreign and disarrayed, there was something familiar about the contact.

Leia's eyes snapped open, her pulse hammering in her ears as she hauled herself away both from sleep and her Force encounter. Her eyesight quickly focused on the man lying next to her. _Han._

That was the presence she had felt. She would have to learn to control her fears if she was going to develop her talents.

She sat upright, self-consciously pressing the bedclothes to her chest, and considered showering and dressing before Han awoke.

 _Han._ She smiled and glanced down at him. He lay on his stomach, naked, hair tousled, his head turned towards her partially hidden by his right arm which rested next to him on the pillow. His breathe came slow and deep through a slightly opened mouth.

 _Now that looks like peace,_ Leia thought.

The top of the bedclothes sat across Han's rump and Leia pulled them up over his broad back, remembering how she had so passionately held onto him last night. Han had also been passionate, but also surprisingly soft and gentle and considerate. Although Leia had initiated the love-making, once the door had closed behind them, her confidence had waned. Duties and responsibilities from an early age as an Alderaanian senator had left her inexperienced in intimate relationships; she had no knowledge of love-making, let alone the seduction of a Galaxy-wise smuggler.

Han had responded to her hesitancy and admissions of inexperience with an understanding, knowing smile and reassuring squeeze of her hand. He had then dimmed the lights, led her to the bed and sat her next to him.

"I'm yours, Princess" he had whispered. "Undress me."

Leia smiled again as she adjusted the bedclothes. The warmth from his body was intense; she could feel him radiating without even touching him. Last night Han had seemed strong, calm, controlled. Now, asleep and in her bed, his hair rumpled against his forehead, he looked innocent, almost boyish. And he was all hers.

She closed her eyes, concentrated her efforts in the Force, spread her sense outwards, towards Han. She felt his presence almost immediately, and it seemed to radiate with the same heat that shimmered from his physical body. She studied the way his life shone, memorising the way it displaced the ebb and flow of the Force, creating ripples like a stone placed in a pool of still water. Then softly, tentatively, she touched his mind. They had physically and emotionally offered themselves to each other, had spent hours talking and discovering each other. Now she was eager to know more about Han Solo.

She gently pushed through the initial barrier of arrogance (amazing that even asleep Han Solo was over-confident and arrogant) and waded in his peaceful thoughts of happiness and fulfillment. The simple nature of his thoughts comforted Leia. They may have been worlds apart on a cultural and social level, and she knew for certain there would be many fierce disagreements between them in the future as there had been in the past. But despite all that, and in spite of himself, she loved him. _Desperately,_ she almost ventured. And he knew it.

Slowly, lingering, she withdrew from his mind, guilty for having ventured into his private thoughts, guilty for wishing to remain within its soothing embrace. She opened her eyes, found herself smiling coyly, and suddenly realised Han was awake and staring up at her.

Had he felt her touching his innermost thoughts? Leia blushed, then turned to him. He hadn't moved; his face was still pressed against the pillow, but the one eye she could see was open. He was grinning and Leia was certain that if she could've seen his full face, there would be a lopsided grin.

"Good morning," she said in attempt to cover her embarrassment.

"It certainly is," he replied. "I thought I'd dreamed last night. But now I know it really happened."

He obviously hadn't felt Leia wandering through his mind. _Good._ But she thought it wiser, and perhaps fairer, to never venture there again.

"It was fun," she offered, thinking how out of character an admission like that sounded coming from her. She absently traced the scar on his forearm, noticed a matching scar— obviously an old blaster wound that hadn't received immediate treatment- near his shoulder. She wondered how he came to have the scars, realised there were so many things about him she didn't really know.

"It's supposed to be." Han wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled himself closer to her. "Come here." He pulled her back down into the bed.

Leia tensed slightly; she would've given anything to spend the day in bed with Han, becoming familiar with both his body and hers, but there were far more pressing things to attend to. "Han..."

"I didn't hurt you last night, did I?" He was staring at her earnestly, intently. "I tried to take things easy, but ...you…" he grimaced as he tried to find the right words, "overwhelmed me."

Leia smiled, touched his cheek, the scar on his chin, his lips.

"You're a beautiful man, Han Solo. You never cease to amaze me." She kissed him softly. To hell with the Galaxy, she thought. It can wait.


End file.
